


Ominous Clouds

by Hannah_Girl



Series: Supernatural Historical AUs [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discrimination, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Famine - Freeform, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Multi, Poverty, Regency Era, SPN Regency Big Bang 2020, The Year Without A Summer, servitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26375743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_Girl/pseuds/Hannah_Girl
Summary: Castiel is an orphaned Cornish fisherman who is being forced to marry the wealthy and entitled Heiress of a Bristol estate. But his heart belongs to her two servants, Hannah and Meg. Caught in a web of black market deals, drug abuse, and affairs, they are also being affected by the unnatural weather during the year without a summer. Will Castiel ever be able to go where his heart truly lies?
Relationships: Castiel/Hannah/meg/Crowley
Series: Supernatural Historical AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922413
Kudos: 2
Collections: SPN Regency Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second bang I have participated in and I have loved every minute of it! Go check out the amazing artwork by my artist partner, Blusxa here https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/84216006. Also note that background art was done by SolusCheese And thank you to my awesome beta, DWImpala67 for helping me with this bang. I hope everyone likes it!

Castiel reluctantly docked his boat. As soon as his vessel was secured, he began unloading cargo just as a number of people came hurrying towards him. 

Normally, cargo vessels were larger, with a big crew to help in all aspects of the operations. But all Castiel had was himself and his tiny fishing vessel. After all, cargo was only a part of his mission. Fishing was the other part.

“What will you have for us today, Fish?” Reginald, the tall, lanky Frenchman demanded as he moved in closer to inspect the baskets and crates Castiel had stacked on the docks. He noticed that to the man, the barrels of fish were of particular interest. “And what took you so long! The chef’s been waiting!”

“Oh, I hope for your sake those aren’t pilchards!” Kent, the shorter man, complained. He spoke slow, in a condescending manner and Castiel bristled with irritation. “We’ve grown tired of those.”

“Sorry,” Castiel said with an irritated shrug. “It’s not mackerel season, and the herring catch has been low lately, so pilchards are what you’re going to get. Of course I know it must really be my uncouth, feeble mind unable to grasp the concept of fishing.”

Castiel didn’t hide the sarcasm from his voice. He wasn’t in the mood for Kent and Reginald and their usual complaints or mockery. He had put up with them all of his life. 

Castiel knew the ridicule he would endure all of his life for his choice to embrace the past. But he saw it as the best way to honor his parents. He mumbled a stream of insults in Cornish as he stepped off the boat.

“Save us that barbaric tongue,” Kent snapped angrily as Castiel brushed past them. “You're just as bad as those other degenerates.”

But Castiel refused to give it up. It was all he had left of his parents, especially his dear mother. He knew speaking a nearly dead language of his culture would only provoke his English employers, and only invite more misery on his part. But he didn’t care.

His late step father hated that he and his mother chose to speak Cornish with each other in clear defiance of his orders. He and his mother endured beatings for it and at times he wondered why he put himself through the pain instead of just conforming like everyone else did. In many ways, it would have saved him a lot of pain. And it would have probably saved his mother’s life. But they both stubbornly refused. And now that both parents were gone, Castiel had found himself at the mercy of his older brothers.

“What else for us?” Reginald demanded hotly as Castiel purposely repeated his stream of Cornish insults that he knew they had no idea the meaning. 

“Silks, porcelain, and tea just arrived from the East,” Castiel replied as a number of servants began loading the cargo onto waiting carriages. “I’m sure Lord Clevedon will approve of the latest imports.”

In truth, Castiel could care less whether his employer approved of his cargo or not. Lord Clevedon’s pompous attitude was more grating than usual, these days. 

It was a short carriage ride before Castiel arrived at the manor himself. As he approached the front entrance, he was greeted by a new face.

“Are you the new butler?” Castiel asked as he looked up and down at the man dressed in fine leather. He certainly looked too well dressed to be a servant. 

“A business man, sir,” the man replied. “Name’s Crowley. I suspect you and I have similar talents.” 

Castiel cocked his head to the side, trying to ascertain what Crowley could possibly know about his talents. Crowley had an ominous air about him that immediately made the young sailor feel uneasy. “Where did you say you were from?” Castiel had to ask.

“Scotland,” Crowley replied as he walked with Castiel. Castiel took his coat off and hung it on the coat rack as he entered the foyer. The luxury of this house was undeniable, the intricate interior design, the woven carpets on the floor, the opulent displays of wealth in every corner of every room. Castiel only rolled his eyes at it all. 

“You don’t seem like you come from Scotland,” Castiel replied. He felt guilty for the immediate assumptions, sizing up the man’s appearance just as others had often done to him.

“Ah yes, the reputation of the Scottish Highlander,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes. “Unsavory, rugid, ill-mannered scoundrels who delight in gambling and iniquity.” Castiel frowned. He wished he could take back his assumptions as soon as they had entered his head. After all, he’d heard things like uneducated, unsavory, barbaric, while people referred to him and his own countrymen in that manner on too many occasions. 

“I’m sorry,” he offered genuinely, to which Crowley grinned, making Castiel second guess his words. 

“I never said I wasn’t all of those things,” he replied. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice discreetly. Castiel glanced around as they lingered near the parlor room where Castiel could hear voices. “If you were to bring a little extra in your cargo, let’s just say that you and those you… represent… could rise far above your current stature.”

Crowley didn’t give him a chance to answer or even to react before he suddenly withdrew from the area. Castiel watched him for a moment as he turned and abruptly headed back the way they had come. 

Castiel shook his head, feeling unnerved as he entered the parlor, where he went unnoticed by the inhabitants at first. As he observed, he found Lady Hortensia dressed in the most exquisite gown. Her long blonde hair was sophisticatedly curled as it fell in coils down her back. Her delicately embroidered white muslin day gown was decorated in a light spattering of embroidered leaves. 

She was the envy of most eligible suitors to be sure. The daughter of Lord Clevedon, heiress of one of the most luxurious and oldest manors in Bristol. She was beautiful. And she was the woman Castiel was supposed to marry. He should consider himself fortunate. 

Unfortunately, Hortensia’s beauty was only skin deep. That might be enough for most men, but it wasn’t for Castiel. 

“Don’t act as though you didn’t do it on purpose, you taffy wench!” Castiel winced at hearing the derogatory insults pouring out of Lady Hortensia's mouth as she barked at her servant. Her back remained faced towards Castiel. 

“I’m sorry, mistress,” Hannah insisted. The servant girl’s sapphire blue eyes met Castiel’s for a moment. She was the first one to notice him, but she didn’t say anything to alert anyone to his presence. 

“Pay attention!” Hortensia lashed out and slapped her hard across the cheek, sending her spiraling backward. Meg moved to catch her. The other servants stayed silent as Hannah received a volley of further insults and degradations. “I swear, I don’t understand why father insists on bringing me servants of loutish origin.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at that. It was true that Lady Hortensia seemed to go through servants at an alarming rate. Often, after only a week or so, they turned up missing. Castiel always suspected that they couldn’t deal with her entitled demands and ran away, opting to take their chances on the streets. 

“A fair lady would be gracious enough to understand that mistakes happen,” Castiel commented, finally announcing his presence, not bothering to hide the disapproval in his voice as Hortensia whirled to face him.

“Castiel!” she gasped in delight, her demeanor immediately changing. She was suddenly beaming from ear to ear at the sight of him, and somehow her smile made him sick to his stomach. “Father told me you were due here today; I have been waiting for you!”

“It seems that you found plenty to do in my absence,” Castiel scoffed as he turned his attention to the servants. 

Hortensia scowled and turned back to Hannah and Meg as Castiel moved in closer. “You have no idea about the incompetence which I have to deal with,” she complained. “Do you know what this little wench did? She dropped my clean linens in the dirt after they had just been cleaned!”

“You have plenty of fine clothing,” Castiel counterpointed. “I’m sure you could do without those certain ones for now.”

“You simply don’t understand my hardships,” Hortensia whined before glaring at Hannah. “I know it's hard for you to understand given your lower birth, but I would have thought you would have learned how to navigate through polite society by now.” 

Castiel ignored the attack at his heritage as Hortensia addressed her servants again, scowling harshly at them. “You need to learn to be more careful,” she implored her tone a little more gentle as if she was speaking to children. “Father took you both in to be my handmaidens and it was clearly out of pity. If you can’t attend to my needs, you can easily be replaced. Now you won’t receive a meal for three days. And make sure my meal is presented to me promptly, or we’ll just extend your punishment.”

“Yes, mistress,” Hannah kept her gaze to the floor as she held her cheek. Meg ushered her out the door, only briefly pausing to glance at Castiel before leaving.

Castiel had a hard time swallowing the rage beginning to well up inside of him as he faced his betrothed. He wanted nothing more than to tell Hortensia, exactly what he thought of her, but he had to hold his tongue. He didn’t want her to suspect anything. Each exchange of glances made with Meg and Hannah had been discreet and gone unnoticed. Their well being depended on no one ever finding out their secret. But one day, someday, things had to change. He just wished he could see how.

“I’ve been having a gown made for our wedding,” Hortensia explained cheerfully as she moved to sit down on the chaise against the wall. “The wedding is in a few months after all, and I want everything to be perfect.”

“I’m sure it will be,” Castiel replied through clenched teeth as he turned away from her and pretended to admire the painting on the wall. 

Castiel wished more than anything that this wasn’t the woman he was to marry. He didn’t care about the wealth she represented. But his marriage meant that her estate would pass on to him. His brothers were eager to exploit that, which is why they pressured him into the arrangement.

But at this moment, Castiel had a hard time suppressing his sincere desire to be somewhere else.


	2. Chapter 2

“You know how she gets,” Meg murmured as Hannah sat huddled against her, trying to ignore her growling stomach. “You just have to be more careful.”

Hannah wiped a hot angry tear from her eye. Pure frustration didn’t even begin to describe her mood. She shouldn’t even be here, she thought. And if she hadn’t been betrayed she wouldn’t be.

“The master of this manor seems to have a particular attraction to servant girls,” Meg continued as she leaned in and began to brush Hannah’s long dark hair. “I saw his gaze linger on you earlier and some of the other staff have said that Lady Hortensia wasn’t the only reason why this manor seems to lose so many servants.”

“If only I could show him where to keep his lingering eyes,” Hannah growled through gritted teeth. Then switching to Welsh, she added. “And if he doesn’t keep his distance I’ll give him a good taste of it.”

Hannah was glad Meg could understand her language. After all, her Welsh tongue is what led her to this predicament.

After Hannah’s father’s sudden and mysterious death in the mine, which seemed to coincide with a recent visit from Lord Clevedon to their family home, her mother had decided her daughter should get away from her Welsh heritage. Hannah had worked at her father’s side since she was a child, wearing men’s tunics and posing as a miner.

Hannah could never prove that her mother had an affair with the wealthy landowner, or that either of them had anything to do with her father’s death, but Lord Clevedon had raised concern that she was ‘doing a job best suited to men’ and that it would be best if she put some distance between herself and Wales. Her mother blamed the grief over her father’s death for her eagerness to accept the landowner’s proposal. 

Now, here she was, under the guise of getting re educated in the English way. But in truth, her only purpose here it seemed, was to be an outlet for Lady Hortensia’s wild tempers, and to cater to Lord Clavedon’s tastes. 

Coming back to reality, Hannah noticed that Meg had crossed the room and was sitting on the small vanity chair, busily pouring the recognizable black powder into a glass of gin. Laudanum.

“I need the medicine,” Hannah spoke up causing Meg to turn to her with a look of concern. “Please, I need it a little more than usual tonight.”

With that, Hannah broke into a hard coughing fit. Meg was at her side in an instant, rubbing her back, the glass of gin in her other hand.

The cough wasn’t new. Hannah had had it since childhood. The hazards of working in a coal mine would do that to a person. She remembered the terrible coughing fits her father would suffer through.

When the cough finally subsided, Hannah turned her attention to the glass in Meg’s hands. “Please?” she stammered.

“You know it’s bad,” Meg replied even as she reluctantly brought a spoonful of the reddish-brown liquid to Hannah’s lips. “Though I’d never deny you an hour of sinful bliss, but you know it’s only temporary.” The extremely bitter taste of the tincture mixed with the strong taste of gin was always shocking for Hannah and she was never fully prepared for it, but she swallowed it quickly, before she had a chance to spit it back up.

As she lay back in bed, eagerly waiting for the effects of the medicine to take effect and euphoria to fill her senses, she suddenly heard a knock at the door of the tiny room she and Meg shared. 

Meg moved to open it, setting the tincture on the vanity as she moved by. Hannah instantly regretted her eagerness to let her mind escape this reality when she saw who entered. 

“Hannah…” Castiel hurried to her bedside as she struggled to keep coherent. He leaned in, kissing her lips deeply before pulling her up to a sitting position and glancing at Meg.

“I thought you both promised me no more tasting it,” he questioned as he sat down on the side of the bed, pulling Hannah against him. 

“She wanted it,” Meg replied with a shrug. “Lady Hortensia has been particularly cruel lately.”

“It’s just this once,” Hannah stammered as she gazed longingly at Castiel. “To take away the pain.”

Castiel sighed. The three of them had been meeting in the shadows pretty much since their first meeting and Hannah knew she should have waited for his arrival before indulging in the drug. But her need was too great. She knew that she had begun to crave the medicine. She had tried to deny it to herself, but with each encounter with it, she began to crave more. It hurt her because she knew Meg put herself in great danger every time she concocted a new batch. 

Meg was a master at herblore, but she had always been secretive about her knowledge. Irish born, she had arrived here shortly before Hannah and the two had taken to one another from the very beginning. Hearing Hannah’s story, she explained how she had willingly given herself to servitude for one purpose: revenge. Her father had been executed for inciting riot among Irish peasants thirsty for independence, and Meg was here to avenge his death. 

“I brought a fresh supply of poppies,” Castiel said to Meg as he sat with one arm draped across Hannah’s shoulders and the other draped around Meg. “And a supply of chemicals for you, Hannah.”

Hannah nodded. She would deal with that in the morning. If Meg’s gift was herbology, Hannah’s was chemistry and geology. She had picked up her skill from working closely with coal and iron ore. She studied the rocks and the chemicals found within them and had taught herself- with the help of her father and his books- to make gunpowder. 

Every week, Castiel smuggled them both the needed supplies. He insisted they keep them safe. They were valuable and could be their ticket away from this despair. Hannah clung to this fantasy and it convinced her to keep going with her craft.

There was a brief pause as silence permeated between the three lovers. Then, in a burst of emotion as her mind slipped into oblivion, Hannah was suddenly in Castiel’s lap, kissing and caressing him greedily. 

“We shouldn’t do this in your state,” Castiel insisted before slowly peeling her off of him and laying her back down in bed. Meg quickly moved to her other side, taking her hand as Castiel leaned in and kissed her before giving Meg a deep kiss as well.

Hannah wanted to deny what he was saying, She wanted to push herself into his arms and ravish him- and Meg. But at the moment, she was having trouble feeling much. It was if her mind had left her body. The sensation of euphoria clouded her mind as she gazed up at the two loving faces above her.

“You know I long to touch you both,” Hannah thought she could make out Castiel’s voice. “You are the most beautiful maidens in all of England and I count myself lucky to even be noticed by you.”

“We’re servants,” Meg pointed out with a shrug as she gazed at him from across the still and fading form that was Hannah. “You know full well that you can take what you want from us.”

“And I would never do that,” Castiel assured her. “I… I hate Clevedon and his spoiled daughter. The only positive I can see of marrying her is that I can be closer to the two of you.”

“She will expect you to share her bed,” Meg reminded him and Hannah was almost knocked out of her bliss by the intrusion of that thought. Of Castiel being touched by her overbearing mistress. 

“She will,” Castiel agreed with a look of deep regret in his eyes. “But she will never have my heart. My heart belongs to the two most beautiful roses I’ve ever seen. And it’s not just your beauty. It’s your strength and your intelligence. And your willingness to spit in the face of proper etiquette and refinement.”

“Be careful,” Meg warned. “Keeping company with women like us isn’t exactly proper behavior for a gentleman.”

Castiel smiled and leaned in to kiss Meg. “I will never be a gentleman,” he returned. “I can’t think of a worse fate.” 

And with that, Hannah slowly faded off to sleep. The drug had had its effect and her last thought was of how she would look forward to Castiel’s touch when she was better and able to enjoy it.


	3. Chapter 3

“Why did you give it to her?” Meg tried to ignore Castiel as she knelt over her large laundry bin, rigorously running the white linens through the wash and the laundry rack. Her muscles were fatigued from the hard work she did, but kept up with it diligently.

“Meg,” Castiel urged again as he glanced around at their surroundings. He wasn’t supposed to be down there with her, and he didn’t want anyone else to catch him, but he needed to confront her. 

“Because she asked for it and I hate to deny her,” Meg blurted out angrily, finally slowing her pace and glancing at him. A wave of emotion washed through her as she met his eyes. She immediately tried to hide these emotions, hoping he wouldn’t notice the look in her eyes.

Meg had always been a strong-willed woman who rarely showed that she cared about anyone. She’d always covered her feelings under a mask of promiscuity. She’d shown herself to be the cruel one who was willing to take anyone out for a good time, before promptly leaving them out in the cold.

It had been worse after her father had been executed. She’d only been a child when she saw him hung in the gallows, a crowd around him. They were shouting and jeering as the noose was placed around his neck. Many had been part of the revolt themselves, but they dare not show it in front of the British soldiers. Their betrayal at the time of her father’s death had enraged Meg and it was there that she learned that even friends couldn’t be trusted. Ever since then, she’d seen everyone as a simple release. A way to channel her feelings of grief and anger. 

Back in Ireland, she could be seen at the local seedy pub, drinking and teasing. In the back of her mind, she could have known that all the immoral depravity she indulged in was just a way to run away from her grief. 

“She doesn’t belong here,” Meg continued, focusing on her laundry again as her eyes stung with emotion. “I try to protect her as much as I can. I hate to see her suffer.”

“I thought you promised you wouldn’t make that stuff anymore,” Castiel replied as he knelt beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You said you were done.”

“It makes money,” Meg replied. “And I need to find a way out of here at some point.”

Castiel sighed. “I wish I could be your ticket out of here,” he murmured. “But I have to marry Hortensia… not that I want to. I had to bite my tongue after what she said to you two yesterday.”

“We all have our place,” Meg responded, not even trying to cover up how much she didn’t believe in that statement. “You have your duties and I have mine.”

Castiel sighed, silent for a long time, looking away before turning back to her. “Look, that stuff… I’ve seen it kill people. And I’ve seen people crave it. And if you are ever caught…”

“I’ve never been caught before,” Meg assured him, now looking at him . “And I won’t be. Don’t worry.”

“Fine,” Castiel relented before lowering his voice. “I got you a new supply of the poppies. A shipment came into Cornwall from the Orient, I sort of… snuck aboard.”

Meg smirked. “Now when did you learn to be such a delinquent, My Lord?” she teased, feeling impressed as he pulled out a sachet from his coat. 

“Perhaps it is because of my association with you,” Castiel responded, leaning in to kiss her as he handed her the sachet. Meg closed her eyes, savoring the touch of his lips for a few precious moments. “My wild Irish Rose.” Castiel whispered between peppering kisses down her neck. 

Meg smirked and rolled her eyes as she let his kisses travel down to her neck. “I thought I told you I hated poetry,” she said, craning her neck to one side to give him access to the smallest crevices of her neck, with a sharp intake of breath as she felt the electricity of his touch. 

Before he attempted to venture further, as he teased at the fabric of her bodice, she groaned and pulled away, teasingly cocking her neck at him. “Got to finish my chores,” she told him, a wry smile crossing her lips as her skin still tingled. “Talk about delinquency.” 

Castiel smiled. “Fine,” he relented. “But I’ll visit you in your chambers.” He stood up and she looked after him as he started for the door. Pausing briefly, he turned back to her. “Look, I won’t stop either of you from what you feel you must do… and I’ll hide your secrets for as long as I’m alive… just spare me the pain of losing you. Either of you. Take care of Hannah and let her take care of you.”

Meg sighed. She nodded enough to placate him, but as he left the room, she felt guilty knowing she couldn’t quite comply with his requests.

She couldn’t let anyone take care of her. As she glanced at the sachet in her hand, then stashing it into the fabric of her bodice, she thought about why she was here in the first place- and the reason was much more sinister than making laudanum. 

The laudanum was just a bonus. An ends to a means. She’d discovered it’s popularity among the English upper classes and exploited them to the best of her ability. Only her clients, and Castiel and Hannah, knew she could make it. After all, it wasn’t easy to make and it required the skills of a very powerful witch- which she was.

But that wasn’t her true motive for being here. After all, why would she sell herself into servitude and leave her beloved island? No, her true motive was simple. Revenge.

It hadn’t been hard to find out that Clevedon had been the one who had ordered the execution of over twenty Irish nationalists who participated in a rebellion. Instead, he was swift in his punishment of men who only wanted independence. After all, if America could have freedom, why couldn’t they?

Clevedon didn’t know who Meg was. He never would have imagined that a young woman like her had actively aided the rebels and rioted right alongside everyone else. Meg had seen a lot of carnage that day. 

So, she carefully made a plan. She came to Bristol armed with a few tea bags full of hemlock, a powerful poison, and volunteered herself as a servant. There she waited for her moment. 

Of course, she didn’t think anything of it when she had given Hannah her first taste of laudanum. It was right after Hortensia had the Welsh girl beaten for a minor infraction. The beating had been so bad Hannah couldn’t walk for days. Meg had offered to alleviate her pain. At that time, of course, Hannah was another nobody to Meg. She hadn’t come to make friends, she’d come to kill Clevedon. 

She’d never imagined that she’d fall in love with someone who reminded her so much of herself. Hannah was strong and independent. The fact that she was having to serve others here infuriated Meg. 

But now it was too late. Hannah craved medicine. It was as if she was addicted to it. And Meg didn’t have the heart to deny her. She needed to take away her pain, even knowing the possible outcome of it.

“Such passion,” came a voice. Meg whirled to see Crowley step out from the shadows, eyeing her knowingly. “It would be a shame if anyone ever found out.”

Meg swallowed, mortified that she and Castiel had been discovered by anyone. “You saw nothing,” she insisted curtly as he approached her. “Keep your mouth shut, Snake.” She hissed at him. 

Crowley regarded her with a smug smirk. “Or what, you’ll turn me into a toad?” he surmised. He sauntered up to her and casually slipped a hand into her bodice, searching around determinedly.

Meg glared as she felt his hands feeling around the soft skin of her most tender parts. “You know the last time someone touched me like that, I got something out of the deal.”

“Ahh, here we are,” he pulled the sachet of poppies out of where she had stowed it away and grinned triumphantly. “You know, there’s a high price for catching anyone who makes this.”

Meg frowned, looking him over. “How did you know?”

“I had an instinct,” he replied with a grin before leaning in to whisper. “Let me tell you what I see. You and Castiel work for me. All I ask in return is a steady supply of product.”

“You want free opium?” Meg raised a brow. She wasn’t sure she could trust this man. He’d only just arrived in town and had been a complete mystery. His black suit made of high-quality fabric made her question where exactly he stood in this hierarchy dependent world. 

But Meg couldn’t help but be allured by him. Maybe it was the air of mystery, the promise of danger. He seemed as dangerous as the drug she made. Yet more tantalizing than words.

“I have connections,” Crowley said. “I understand your Welsh girl knows how to make gunpowder. The four of us could make a fortune. Castiel brings in the things we need, you make the product, I deal with it. I am very well versed in… shall we say… goods that aren’t normally, or legally, available to the common man.”

Meg thought about it carefully. She knew that once she poisoned Lord Clevedon, she’d need to get far, far away from Bristol. And maybe, just maybe, she could take Hannah and Castiel with her. Was this mysterious Scottish hustler the ticket?

Meg gave him a sly grin and nodded her agreement. “Shall we… seal the deal?” she asked, raising a brow provocatively.

Crowley easily got her meaning and leaned in, slowly kissing her neck. She felt guilty, worrying that Castiel would feel betrayed, but why shouldn’t she indulge? So she gave in to her desires, leaning into his touch. 

Discreetly, he slipped a hand up her dress, his fingers touching her warm skin and suddenly, Meg was in pure ecstasy. She moaned as his hands probed her most tender parts. She gripped his shoulders as he hoisted her up and roughly slammed her against the wall. 

And there, in the secrecy of the manor laundry room, Meg gave into the most visceral sexual experience she’d ever had. It was hot, it was rough, it was primal. As she gave into the deepest desires, touching, scratching, and shoving; she almost felt as though her consciousness had left her own body.

When it was over, and he was fastening up his clothes, as she lay on the floor, trying to catch her breath, it was all she could do but stare up at him.

“I look forwards to doing business with you, Milady,” he told her casually as if the sex they had just had was a simple business transaction. 

“As do I,” Meg replied breathlessly as she sat up, trying to compose herself. Her body still tingled from the memory of his touch from just moments ago. 

With that, Crowley sauntered back out of the room, leaving Meg to wonder what had just happened.


	4. Chapter 4

The weeks that moved by should have brought warmth and sunshine to the world. But it was well into July and the brisk winds brought hail and snow. As Hannah gazed out the window of Hortensia’s massive bed chambers, she could feel the uneasiness of it all. Something wasn’t right with the world. 

But at least she could enjoy the day of freedom. Hortensia and her father had gone into town for the day to shop for expenses, leaving the servants to tend to the home. 

Hannah busied herself with making Hortensia’s bed, dusting, and tidying up. For an upper-class lady, Hortensia was very disorganized and it was quite often that Hannah had to straighten up her bed chambers. Clothes were thrown all over the floor, some still hanging from opened armoire drawers, the bed was unmade, and there was litter on the floor. Teacups and trays of half-eaten food lay on just about every flat surface.

Hannah spent the better part of the morning cleaning up the room. She had managed to make it look beautiful and tidy again. She was straightening the curtains when she heard the door open. Afraid Hortensia had returned early, she whirled just as Castiel entered the room. She smiled as he moved across the room.

“You’ve been gone longer than usual,” she commented as Castiel crossed the distance between them and quickly grabbed her up into his arms. “I was worried.” 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel offered as he held her close while they both turned to gaze out the window to look at the stormy winds blowing through the world outside. “Things have been difficult in Cornwall. This weather has caused the crops to fail and a lot of people are worried. I stayed to try to help my brothers by fishing, but the sea is too rough.”

“Your wedding is approaching,” Hannah reminded him, struggling to contain her emotions as she lowered her gaze.

“I wish it wasn’t,” Castiel replied with a sigh. “I hate this. I only agreed to marry Hortensia so my greedy brothers could inherit her estate. But the only thing I’m getting out of the deal is a spoiled entitled wife and the promise that my brothers won’t kick me to the curve.”

“You will inherit us,” Hannah pointed out, raising a brow. “After all, Hortensia wouldn’t get very far in life without her servants.”

Castiel huffed and leaned in to kiss her deeply. Hannah closed her eyes, savoring the moment. There hadn’t been many moments like this, getting to enjoy themselves. Those moments were becoming far and between.. Castiel’s visits to Bristol were now scarce.

“Is it true what they are saying?” Hannah asked as she turned her attention to the world outside. It was dark and snow had begun to fall, the wind howled, bending the trees. “That there will be no harvest this year?”

“No one is certain why,” Castiel replied. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she sought the warmth of his embrace. “There are rumors of a volcano wreaking havoc in the East. In fact, I was only able to get a small number of poppies from this latest shipment for Meg.”

Hannah swallowed. She felt that familiar yearning for the bliss that Meg’s laudanum promised. But she knew Meg was running low on supplies. 

“Meg said she found a supplier for my gun powder,” Hannah said after a pause. “She wouldn’t say who, but maybe we will earn enough coin to leave here.”

Castiel said nothing to that. He just brushed the hair off of her neck with his gentle fingers, then kissed her neck softly. “Take me with you,” he whispered softly against her neck. 

Hannah said nothing. She just gazed out at the scenery outside the window. She savored the feeling of his arms around her, her body braced against his. She felt the warmth of his embrace, and she let her mind wander. They were high above the world in the manor. Many floors up. From there, they could usually see the spanning green acres and the rose bushes surrounding the manor grounds. And they could see the stone buildings of the city of Bristol in the distance.

But today, they couldn’t see much. The sky was dark and cloudy and hail and sleet pelted the window while the wind howled outside, shaking the windows.

Hannah couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. That this strange weather was an omen. A herald of things to come. Not just for the world, but in her life.

While Meg had gotten involved in making and dealing laudanum to the upper classes, Hannah had learned how to make gun powder not long after she had arrived in Bristol. Having worked alongside her father in the coal mine, she was familiar with certain chemicals, especially explosives. And she discovered how to make the powder when she was quite young.

Together, she and Meg had been quietly profiting off of the upper classes, using their skill to sell their product while laboring as servants. But Hannah felt the enormous weight of guilt on her shoulders, knowing that their products were hurting people. Meg could justify that they were only serving the upper class, that they were entitled and aristocratic and they had it coming anyway. Meg was always able to justify it by saying these things. But Hannah couldn’t always dismiss it so easily. 

Regardless of the guilt, she kept going. Because she clung to the hope that someday it would pay off and she wouldn’t have to do it anymore. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Maybe this ominous weather was telling her something. Maybe in order for change to happen, she just had to take that one step. She just wished she knew what that step would be.

“My love?” Castiel’s soft voice brought Hannah out of her deep thoughts and she pivoted around in his arms to face him. She found a look of concern in those sapphire orbs. “Are you well? You are so quiet today.”

“Just thinking,” Hannah assured him. “About change. And why it happens and how are we to know what the signs are.”

Castiel pondered that for a moment. Realization seemed to cross his face as he leaned in to kiss her first on the forehead, then on the lips. “I know this weather is what has you so pensive,” he whispered, his breath tickling her lips, rushing shivers through her body as she draped her arms around his shoulders. 

Maybe Castiel was right. Maybe the unusually cold stormy summer had her in a somber mood. She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that at this moment, it was just the two of them. So she kissed him again. She leaned in, wrapping herself up into his embrace.

Hannah let herself be caught up in the moment. She felt the desire in Castiel’s touch as he kissed her lips, then her chin and neck. She wanted this. She loved Castiel more than anything, and although this wasn’t the first time they’d made love, it never failed to excite her just as much as it had been their first time. But it had always been in secret. It had always been in the dead of night when the rest of the world was sleeping, when Hortensia was sleeping and they knew they wouldn’t get caught.

But this was different. This felt rebellious and out of control. It felt sinister and foreboding. Hannah felt like a deviant for even letting it happen. 

But she didn’t dare stop it. Castiel caressed her skin, moving down from her face to her breast to her stomach, each time, taking ample time to touch every inch of her skin with tenderness and sensuality. He knew her needs and her desires. He touched her and kissed her in all the right ways, stripping off each piece of clothing bit by bit, hoisting her into his arms and carrying her to bed like it was the most casual thing.

“Castiel…” Hannah breathed as she arched her back into his touch. She sunk into the bed, letting herself be carried away in the bliss of his touch. 

And they made passionate love. In Hortensia’s bed. In the middle of the day. They should have been stealthy about it. They should have ensured that no one was watching. Or maybe somewhere deep down, they just didn’t care anymore. At that moment, it didn’t matter. Not Castiel’s marriage, not Hannah’s low status, nothing. There was no one but each other.

If only they knew that the door to their chambers was slightly ajar and that one passing servant managed to spy and see the whole thing.


	5. Chapter 5

It didn’t take long for Castiel to be confronted with his worst fears, the grave error he and Hannah had committed. The day of a ball that was to be held in Hortensia’s honor, one week before the wedding, Castiel arrived at the manor and was immediately called into Lord Clevendon’s office. It was another stormy, rainy night and the wind howled against the trees. 

The unnatural weather was wreaking havoc all over the world. Castiel was concerned about the illness that seemed to be spreading. As he came into the office and found Lord Clevendon sitting there behind his opulent desk, he had no idea that this would be the least of his worries.

“Castiel, take a seat,” the manor lord was dressed in his usual long navy blue frock coat with its golden embroidery thread and gilt-buttoned lapel. His silver wig was long and wavy, falling past his knees. He took out a pipe as he regarded Castiel suspiciously.

Castiel felt intimidated as he hesitantly sat down, facing the lord. He had the distinct impression that Clevedon was about to punish him for something.

“A week before your wedding and this is how you repay my generosity?” Clevedon lashed out angrily. Castiel searched his mind frantically for what he could possibly be talking about. “You are lucky I haven’t told my daughter about this betrayal yet. I chose to confront you like a gentleman instead.”

“I don’t understand, Sir,” Castiel offered. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“If you planned to keep your secret affair with Hortensia’s handmaiden secret, you might have wanted to make sure the door was completely closed before you engaged in your debauchery with her.”

At that instance, Castiel paled as he realized his grave error. He had been so careful with Hannah and Meg, and one lapse of judgment had instantly ruined everything. He had been so caught up in his passion for her that it hadn’t even occurred to him that someone could have spied upon him. Or perhaps, at the time, it didn’t seem to matter to either of them.

“My lord, if I could explain,” he stammered, trying to find words he could possibly defend himself with. But how could he? 

“I don’t care for your excuses,” Clevedon waved him off angrily. “When your brother first came to me with this marriage arrangement, I was doubtful. How could some Cornish low born peasant even hope to be worthy of marrying my daughter? But in light of my good relations with your brother, I chose to go forward with it. But it seems my suspicions were accurate.”

Castiel felt a surge of anger at the slight towards his birth. He thought of his mother, of the things she’d taught him. He felt enraged at it all. At the fact that he’d had to carry on this affair for so long, pretending to care about Hortensia when his heart belonged to her two handmaidens. 

He wanted to call it off then and there. He wanted to tell Clevedon right then and there what he thought of him and his daughter. And then he wanted to turn around and leave back to Cornwall and never return. But he thought of Hannah and Meg and how they would be left at the mercy of Clevedon and when Hortensia found out about this, her wrath upon them would be terrible. He couldn’t leave them to that fate.

“I’m sorry, my lord, it was a lapse of judgement on my part,” he insisted. “I have been concerned of late about the unnatural weather and the famine affecting those less fortunate. I was vulnerable. But I assure you, Hannah is not at fault for this. I am.”

Clevedon regarded him for a moment. “If you want to marry into the upper class, you need to learn how to participate in gentle society,” he began, his tone a little softer now, as if he was scolding an unruly child. “Associating with the lower classes doesn’t help your cause. Especially Welsh whores. We will keep this incident between us for now, but I promise you I will be watching you very closely. Do you understand?”

Castiel nodded. He hated Clevedon but he was grateful that he was being given a second chance. An uncharacteristically generous move on the lord’s part.

Castiel left the office feeling ashamed. He didn’t think for a moment that this was over. And Hannah had no idea that others knew about them. But for now, he tried to concentrate on matters at hand.

The ball was nothing more than a chance for Lord Clevedon to flaunt his wealth to all of Bristol. He claimed it was in honor of his daughter’s upcoming betrothal, and Hortensia certainly relished the attention, but as Castiel stepped into the large ballroom and saw all the finely dressed aristocracy, he had to roll his eyes. 

Castiel had made sure to dress the part as well. He wore his long forest green frock and his dark trousers, and his trifold hat. He looked every bit the well to do nobleman he was soon to become. But he certainly didn’t feel it. 

He spotted Hannah and Meg in the far corner of the room. They wore their usual maid garments and were each carrying a tray of appetizers. They weren’t there to be seen by anyone, of course. They were only there to serve. 

Castiel glanced around, making sure no one seemed to notice him yet. Hortensia was on the other side of the room gossiping with a group of courtiers, and Clevedon was busy dazzling the regional gentlemen with boasts of his exploits.

So Castiel discreetly made his way to the corner. Hannah and Meg both smiled when they noticed his approach. He casually took an oyster off of each of their trays and ate them, trying to present the illusion that he was only interested in them for the food they were offering.

“Good evening my lord,” Meg greeted. Castiel spared a glance at both of them. He frowned. They both appeared uncomfortable and Castiel could see the red rash on Hannah’s neck. Meg appeared to have a similar rash across her forehead. Pain and discomfort were evident in both of their eyes.

“Are you both well?” he asked with concern. 

“It seems we must have a bad case of the bed bugs,” Meg offered with a shrug. “We’ll recover, I’m sure.”

Castiel wasn’t convinced. They both seemed to be fighting back the discomfort, and Hannah was unnaturally pale, her dark hair pulled back as she trembled ever so slightly. It was hardly noticeable, but Castiel could see how the appetizer tray shook in her hands.

“I can’t linger here too long without arousing suspicion,” he told them. “But as soon as you get the chance, you both should go get some rest. I’ve heard there has been an outbreak of jail fever and I don’t want either of you exposed.”

“We can’t leave until our mistress releases us for the evening,” Meg responded. Hannah was quiet. Her eyes had a dull look. Castiel longed to pull her into his arms and make her feel better. He worried she might be under the influence of the laudanum again, but something told him that this was something different.

“I’ll check on you soon” he assured them both, meeting Hannah’s eyes once more before moving away from them. He made his way to Hortensia, who was still commiserating with her friends.

Hortensia smiled when she saw Castiel approach. “Ahh darling,” she greeted with a grin. “I was just telling Lady Colette and Lady Regina of the little naughty prank I pulled.”

She gave Castiel a mischievous grin as her friends chuckled in amusement. Castiel wasn’t sure he even cared what Hortensia had been up to, his thoughts were still on Hannah and Meg. But he feigned an interested grin and shrugged. “And what mischief have you gotten into today, my betrothed?” he questioned teasingly.

“I let my handmaidens serve at the ball,” she began. “But I tire of seeing how many gentlemen have lingered their eyes on them. Every time we go out, every time we have company, they just can’t seem to stop flaunting their looks. As if they are even half as beautiful as me. But I don’t want them thinking they are above their station.”

Castiel frowned as he thought where this might be heading. Hortensia had made her jealousy of her own handmaidens quite clear. She was certain that their beauty was a threat to her. And Castiel couldn’t help but feel a little amused at that thought. Because he knew it was true. Hannah and Meg were very beautiful, and their beauty hadn’t gone unnoticed. But it was their intelligence and their uniqueness that really attracted him.

“Oh tell him what you did to the little wenches,” Colette insisted with a giggle as she fanned herself flamboyantly. 

“Well I couldn’t have men look at them at my ball,” Hortensia replied, grinning mischievously. “So I let them borrow my make up for the event. Told them I wanted them to dress nice for the ball. Then I put a little special ingredient in the makeup. I mean look at them, they look like they are diseased! No man will be interested in them now!”

As Colette and Regina burst out in laughter, Castiel nearly doubled over in shock and rage. He glared daggers at Hortensia. “You what!” Castiel exclaimed. He felt incensed that Hortensia could be so cruel to those who served her. And now he knew why Hannah and Meg looked so uncomfortable.

“Oh please, Castiel,” Hortensia rolled her eyes mockingly. “It was just a harmless prank, they’ll be fine. But no one will look at them at the ball.”

Castiel couldn’t hear anymore. He stormed off away from Hortensia. In the room off to the side of the ballroom, many gentlemen were gathered around tables indulging in various gambling games. He spotted Crowley at the head of one.

Castiel felt hot with fury and he knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but he headed towards the table and sat down. 

“Deal me in,” he demanded to Crowley.

“And what would you care to wager?” the crass Scottish man asked as Castiel glanced at the rest of the table. They were all a group of rowdy men who were notorious for their drunkenness. 

Castiel didn’t usually resort to gambling. But he needed a way to release his anger. So he played the game. At first it was just a few shillings. Soon the stakes were higher. Before he knew it, the game had taken a devastating turn. He suddenly found himself in deep debt. Crowley grinned as he watched the sweat trickle down Castiel’s face.

“Would you care to quit before you risk it all?” Crowley asked, raising a brow as he shuffled the cards. Castiel shook his head.

“Keep going,” he insisted, handing over his family ring, and the last bit of gold or silver he had on him. He even went as far as to wager Hortensia’s wealth.

“I’ll be able to give you the money as soon as I’m married,” he insisted. “Keep going.”

Before long, Castiel had gambled away nearly half the wealth he’d be inheriting. He would have kept going, but a sudden commotion in the ballroom caught his attention. He heard women screaming and a flutter of activity.

Concerned, he excused himself from the gambling table and hurried back into the room. He gasped when he saw the source of the commotion. Hannah lay in the center of the ballroom, a plate of appetizers spilled out beside her. Meg knelt by her looking distraught.

“What happened!” Castiel demanded, pushing past the crowds as he hurried to them. 

“She fainted,” Meg replied as she put a hand on Hannah’s forehead. “She’s feverish!”

Castiel swallowed. He knew all eyes were on them but he didn’t care. He hurried over and hoisted Hannah into his arms and he and Meg hurried away from the ball, not caring about the voices of gossip behind them. 

This had been a terrible night.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel carried Hannah through the house and past the scrupulous eyes of onlookers. In his arms, she remained limp and unresponsive as Meg hurried alongside them.

“My lord!” Hortensia’s distinctive voice cut through the frenzy and chaos as she caught up to them. “What are you doing?”

“Send for the doctor,” Castiel snapped at her as he hurried through the halls. He brought Hannah to one of the guest chambers and lay her in bed. Meg hurried to the other side of the bed and leaned in, pressing a hand to Hannah’s cheek. Her touch brought a soft moan as Hannah leaned her head towards the touch.

Castiel tucked worked to loosen her garments, fluffing her pillow, and tucking her into her bed. He stood over her, gazing into her face. She was sickly pale, though her cheeks were flushed. Her skin was hot and clammy to the touch and her breathing was slightly labored as if she was struggling to take in a breath. 

“Did she take more of the laudanum?” Castiel questioned, glancing across Hannah’s prone form to Meg. Meg shook her head.

“No, not that I know of,” she replied. Castiel could see the concern in Meg’s dark eyes, but before she could say more, the doctor barged in trailed by Hortensia and Lord Clevedon.

“I’ll need some privacy if you please,” the doctor instructed and Castiel got up reluctantly. He and Meg moved out into the hallway, closing the door. As they stood in the hall, Castiel tensed as he turned his attention to Hortensia and Clevedon. He knew they’d seen how concerned he was for Hannah. And he recalled his conversation with Clevedon. He realized now that he may have reached a point of no return.

“Would anyone mind explaining what exactly is going on here?” Clevedon asked as he and Hortensia stood in front of them, their suspicious glares piercing though. Castiel swallowed and he felt Meg tense up beside him. He realized this confrontation wasn’t going to go well, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He was scared for Hannah and he was still furious about what Hortensia had done.

“Why don’t you ask your daughter how this happened,” he sneered, glancing at Hortensia accusingly. Meg glanced between them with confusion but Clevedon merely rolled his eyes and glanced at Hortensia with casual curiosity.

“It was only a joke,” she pointed out with a shrug. “How was I to know she was so feeble?” She crossed her arms across her chest and shot Castiel with an accusing glare. “What do you care about anyway? I can treat my servants however I want.”

Castiel was about to reply. He was going to tell her off and maybe, finally, proclaim his love for the two servants. But as he opened his mouth to respond, he heard the footsteps just as two figures rounded the corner to join them. Castiel paled when he saw who they were.

Jeremiah and Archibald Hinsdale were Castiel’s stepbrothers and the sore in his side since they’d moved into his Cornish home as a child. They were ambitious, greedy, and always eager to exploit their brother. It was absolutely terrible timing that they would turn up here now.

“What’s going on here?” Jeremiah asked as they approached. “We’ve arrived to witness our dear brother’s wedding and your butler told us there had been some commotion.”

“The wedding isn’t for a week,” Castiel pointed out, nervously. “You’re both quite early.”

At that moment, the door opened and Castiel and Meg both whirled to see the doctor emerge. Castiel swallowed when he saw the grim look on his face. Immediately, his worry about the wedding or his brothers’ presence went right out the window. 

“How is she, doctor?” Meg demanded quickly before Castiel could ask the same thing. Castiel could feel his brother's eyes on the back of his head as if they were drilling nails through him. 

“It’s not good, I’m afraid,” the doctor replied. “Jail fever. It’s been afflicting a lot of people in Ireland and it was only a matter of time before it spread here.”

Castiel’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. He knew people were suffering from jail fever. He suspected it had been due to the unusually frigid winter weather they were having. 

“Jail fever!” Hortensia cut in sharply while Castiel tried to absorb what he’d just learned. “Filthy! Disgusting! I knew these servants were vile!”

Castiel whirled to face her, fury welling up inside of him. He could barely contain his temper as he looked her straight in the eye. “It was made worse by your little prank!” he exclaimed angrily. He glanced at Meg who stood there quietly, no doubt dwelling on Hannah’s condition. “Hortensia put itching powder in the make up she lent you so that you would break out in rashes. She feels threatened by your beauty.”

Meg glared at Hortensia. “Your jealousy has caused you to villainize us for too long,” she began. “We’ve gone along with all your frivolous demands. You know full well that your station over us gives you all the advantage you need, yet you still think we are a threat to you.” She stepped closer, narrowing her eyes. “If Hannah dies, you will have cause to feel threatened by me.”

Hortensia gasped, feigning shock as she glanced at her father. “Father! She threatened me, can you believe this!”

“That’s enough,” Clevedon held up a hand. He focused on Castiel. “You were warned. I agreed to give you another chance, but it seems we are at an impasse. I want to see you all in my office tomorrow morning and we will discuss some things.”

“What is this all about?” Jeremiah asked, glaring at Castiel. “Why are you so caught up in these servants?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel snapped. “I don’t care that you all know now. I love Hannah and Meg. And I wish I was marrying them and not an entitled, pompous, spoiled brat like Hortensia.”

Hortensia gasped and burst into tears. But Castiel could see right through her insincere display of emotion and rolled his eyes. “Leave us, all of you.”

“You will pay for this, brother!” Archibold promised as they all finally turned to leave. “And one way or another, you will regret your actions in this matter.”

With that, they all turned and stormed down the hall. Castiel turned his attention to Meg as he was finally able to go back into the room. “What’s going to happen now?” Meg voiced as they entered the room. 

“I don’t know,” Castiel admitted. He knew he may have just destroyed everything for them and he feared what might happen to Meg and Hannah, but right now, he didn’t care. He only cared about being here for Hannah.

Hannah was awake when they both approached her bedside. She groaned as she turned to look at them. “My head…” she sighed, her voice weak.

“It’s okay my love,” Castiel came over to kiss her on the head while Meg moved to the other side of the bed, leaning over to soothe Hannah’s hair. Castiel took her hand and sat by her side. “I just need you to get better. We all do.”

Castiel sat there trying to sort it all out. Hannah had a slim chance and that was something he didn’t want to consider. But he still hadn’t faced his gambling situation. He feared Clevedon’s wrath when the overlord learned about that. Castiel needed a plan and he needed one soon.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel was eventually forced to leave to handle the matter with Lord Clevedon and his brothers. Meg stayed with Hannah, sitting at her bedside and dabbing at her forehead with a damp cloth, making sure she was looked after.

Meg was worried. She didn't know what this would all mean for her or for Hannah. She knew this confrontation was inevitable as soon as she met Castiel. She should have kept her distance, not let herself fall for him. After all, she came here with a mission of vengeance, and these love affairs were distractions. Now she wondered if she was ever going to be able to carry out her mission at all.

Hannah slept fitfully, her head listing from one side to the other, her face shining with sweat. Her skin felt hot enough to cook on and was clammy to the touch as Meg kept dabbing her head with cloth and covered her with rag.

Meg was used to long nights like this caring for Hannah. Usually, it was due to the effects of laudanum, but now it was this. Jail fever. A plague that now threatened Hannah's life. Meg was scared, and she hadn't felt this afraid in a very long time. Not since her father died. 

Meg leaned over Hannah, placing a hand on her forehead. She'd already supplied all the herbal remedies she had learned from her upbringing as the daughter of a witch. Closing her eyes, she began to chant softly in the ancient Celtic language she had learned. The words rolled off her tongue, begging the spirits to heal Hannah if they could hear her. 

"Jail Fever, is it?" Meg gasped as her spell was interrupted. She whirled to see Crowley enter the room; his eyes focused on her. She frowned. She'd never let anyone see her spell making or hear her chants; her witchcraft was a carefully guarded secret that only Hannah and Castiel knew about. After all, the consequences of being caught were quite severe.

"What do you want?" she demanded, angry at being intruded as Crowley's presence reminded her about what she had been doing in the shadows. Something she wasn't too fond of.

Since the deal with Crowley, Meg had been supplying him with a steady supply of laudanum. She had asked Hannah to make extra supplies of gunpowder, though she never told her why. This had been a secret she had kept close, especially since meeting Crowley in the dark usually involved sex. She wasn't sure Hannah or Castiel would approve. 

"I have nothing for you," she told him. "I've been a little busy."

"Oh, I took the liberty of helping myself," Crowley informed her, holding up a pouch in his hands. "And I couldn't help but notice all the other little side projects you have going on."

To Meg's horror, Crowley held up her small hemlock bag, which she had planned to use on Clevedon. She hid her fear with instant anger. 

"How dare you go through my belongings," she accused him, furious at the prospect of Crowly going through her belongings. "You had no right to trifle through those things."

"Oh, you'll find that I excel in trifling where I don't belong, My Lady," Crowley replied with a slight bow as if he was ready to take applause for a stunning performance. Her anger seemed to be the applause he wanted. "Now I found this tucked away in the tiniest corner of your supplies. It seems like you were saving it for something special. A wedding, perhaps?"

Meg frowned. She hadn't planned on poisoning Clevedon on Castiel's wedding day, but the thought that crossed her mind that it might have been a perfect opportunity. The house would have plenty of visitors coming and going; everyone’s attention would be focused on the bride and groom; there was a perfect window of opportunity for her to get things done discreetly.. It was a perfect chance to take her revenge on Clevedon and to save Castiel from his wrath.

When she said nothing, Crowley only smiled before stuffing the pouch into his coat pocket. "Well, who knows, I might be able to find time for this," he told her, winking suggestively. Meg cocked her head and stared at the mysterious man standing in front of her. Had he just implied he planned to help her? She wasn't sure. Crowley's motives always seemed to be shrouded in mystery and guise. She could never be sure as to what his intentions were. 

"You want to help me? I planned to slip it into Clevedon’s wine. He…” She paused, unsure if she should let him in on her secret. Eventually she gave in, “He killed my father." 

"Yes, I'm well aware of your past," Crowley responded before promptly turning back towards the door. "And as for helping you… I can make no promises. After all, helping myself is what I excel in. Helping others is not usually my strong suit."

With that, he left the room, leaving a stunned Meg behind. A groan from the bed had Meg whirling to see Hannah sitting up in bed, her eyes bright as she cleared her throat.

"Hannah," Meg murmured, leaning in to take her hands. She wasn't sure if her spell had worked, Crowley had interrupted it at a crucial point. But as Meg pressed a hand to Hannah’s forehead and peered down into her face, she could see that the color was quickly returning to Hannah's face, and the fever was going down.

"I feel better," she said softly, her voice soft and weak as she squeezed Meg's hands weakly. She blinked lethargically, a few times. "What did you do?"

"It's a temporary spell," Meg said with a sigh. She doubted the spell would last very long at all, but it would give Hannah some relief and buy her some time. Time for what, Meg wasn't sure. But ever since the confrontation in the hall, Meg had been thinking about how they needed to get away from here. She just wasn’t sure of how to go about doing it.

"I know," Hannah replied, reaching over to brush a hand to Meg's cheek. She leaned in to kiss Meg tenderly. Meg sighed, leaning into the other woman's embrace. The warmth promised there was inviting, and it was nice to feel that warmth wasn't feverish. Meg opened her mouth and kissed deeply, passionately, as if she was afraid that if she stopped, Hannah would just melt away. 

"Blasphemy!" Hortensia's voice from the door had both women whirling to face her. The Heiress stood there, staring at them both flabbergasted. 

"First, you try to move in on my betrothed, and now you engage in this sort of wickedness?" Hortensia was incensed as she moved into the room, furiously coming towards them. "I should have known. You are both poisonous vipers who have somehow managed to poison Castiel against me. Why else could he be saying such terrible things about me! This is your fault!"

Meg exchanged glances with Hannah as they watched Hortensia pace furiously in front of them, working herself up into a fury. 

"Perhaps the things he said about you were true," Meg replied. She knew they were in trouble for Castiel's affair, so she saw no use in pretending anymore. She'd wanted to tell this vile girl off from the minute she'd arrived. "Entitled, pompous, so jealous of your own maids that you had to play an insidious prank on us just to make yourself feel better."

"Joke?" Hannah murmured, glancing at Meg. "What's going on?"

"Oh, don't you play innocent you little Welsh trollop, you faked this illness to get his attention. Because you couldn't stand that he is marrying me!"

Meg felt infuriated. She stood up. "Well, since the cat's out of the bag and all, and since you will likely send us away after this, I have no qualms about doing this," she punched Hortensia hard in the face, sending her sprawling across the floor. "There's a nice black eye to go with your beautiful wedding dress."

Hortensia shrieked loudly as she flailed about on the floor in what could only be described as a full-on temper tantrum. Hannah got up from the bed and smirked as she came to stand beside Meg as they watched the spectacle unfold. 

"You Unscrupulous Irish Wench!" Hortensia screamed. "You fat wit wanton slut! You'll pay for this, I swear!"

At that moment, a trio of men entered the room. Meg didn't recognize them, but they were very intimidating. Very tall and thick, each carrying an array of daggers on their belt.

"Fortunately, I know how to take care of sluts like the two of you!" Hortensia shouted as she sat on the floor. "I'm selling you to the Baron of Bristol. He knows how to break in unruly women. Take them!"

Meg and Hannah barely had a chance to react before the men were on them, quickly grabbing them and hauling them out of the room. 

***

The very next day, Castiel once again found himself standing in front of the desk in the office of Lord Clevedon. This time, he was accompanied by his brothers and by Hortensia, who was nursing a huge black eye.

"Here we are again, Castiel," Clevedon began as he sat behind his desk, drumming his fingers across the wood, a stern look on his face. "I gave you leniency, and you couldn't even reform your errant ways."

"Where are they?" was all Castiel could demand. When he had arrived in the palace that morning after spending all night looking for a cure for Hannah in the streets, he had found the two of them nowhere to be seen. 

"I took care of them," Hortensia replied simply. "I had them disposed of. I'll not have their kind as my servants. Can you believe that Irish whore did this to me!"

Castiel studied the black eye Hortensia was brandishing and wondered what she had said to upset Meg so much. But whatever it had been, Castiel was sure that Hortensia had deserved it. But now Castiel was afraid. He didn't know where Meg and Hannah were, and he knew how sick Hannah had been. Hortensia's vague answers made him afraid.

"Please, Lord Clevedon, my brother can reform his errant ways," Castiel scoffed as he turned to face his brother, Jeremiah. He thought for sure that Clevedon intended to call off the marriage, which was the one positive thing he could think of as an outcome to all of this. 

And now to hear his brother begging for the wedding was infuriating. Was he ever going to be able to get out of this? He had hoped to be set free and be allowed to return to Cornwall. Though his brothers would punish him, and he would be returning with disgrace, with a broken heart, at least he could finally get away from Bristol. And maybe, he'd find a way to take Meg and Hannah with him, if he could only find out where they were.

"I suppose it depends on how my daughter feels," Clevedon replied. "I can't imagine how I could possibly take this lowly scoundrel into my home after this scandal. But if my daughter can find it in her heart to forgive him, then perhaps I can too."

"Lord Clevedon, with all due respect, I don't want to marry your daughter," Castiel put in. He was determined to stand up for himself somehow. Maybe the confrontation gave him the courage to stand up. "I want to marry the handmaidens. Where are they?"

"They are dead!" Hortensia shouted, her sudden emotional outburst causing everyone in the room to face her. "I had them both drowned in the river! You'll never see them again!"

Hortensia sobbed loudly and hurried around the desk to throw herself dramatically into her father's arms, crying loudly about how terrible Meg and Hannah were. Everyone else seemed astonished by this scene, but for Castiel, he felt as though the air in the room was suddenly thin. Like he struggled to breathe. The world blurred and went white around him.

They're dead…. They're dead... That was all he could focus on. Hannah and Meg were dead. Castiel felt his legs give way under him, and he sank to the floor. He said nothing, just let himself fall to the floor, gazing at the red velvet carpet underneath him. He felt dizzy; he felt nauseous. He lost all feeling except the intense emotional pain that filled every part of his being. The grief was so thick; he felt as though he was struggling to breathe in water. He was drowning. 

At that moment, nothing else mattered. Everything was over. Hannah and Meg were gone, and Castiel's life no longer mattered. He found himself promptly agreeing to any conditions Lord Clevedon and his brothers dished out, including the decision to have his fishing boat- his only other passion in life- scuttled.

He agreed to get married to Hortensia, and they were wed the very next day. And Castiel felt numb the entire time. There was a permanent feeling of numbness. His life no longer had meaning.


	8. Chapter 8

The next couple of days were a blur to Castiel. He got married and prepared to settle into life in Bristol. The atmosphere around them was joyous, guests from all over upper-class England came in to enjoy the ball to celebrate the marriage. Castiel was surprised that so many people were able to be called upon to attend this lavish display of avarice on such short notice.

Castiel’s affair was kept a tidy secret even though he felt numb and cold inside. Just as the world around them seemed numb and cold, Castiel grieved every day for the servant girls while Hortensia and everyone else around him celebrated. Few were even aware that Meg and Hannah had ever been there. Their very existence seemed to be so quickly erased.

But nothing could erase them from Castiel’s heart. His world felt dim and lifeless as if he were only half alive. He doubted he’d ever meet women like them. Independent, intelligent, generous, and so very beautiful. They defied the norms, refused to be hampered down neither by class nor by gender. Hannah and Meg were a breath of fresh air in the stifling pressure of upper-class society that Castiel was forced to partake in. 

It seemed that nature herself mourned the death of the servant girls. As Castiel gazed out the window of his new Bristol manor home, rain and hail pelted the land below. It was August, the air should be thick with birdsong, and the land should be lush with the greenery of summer. Instead, this storm had continued all week. The wind howled angrily, rattling the windows as it chilled the world around them.

Castiel winced as his attention turned towards the streets where he saw figures huddled in the rain, trying to seek shelter under trees or beside trees. Homeless beggars were on the rise in Bristol. Castiel saw them every day, sometimes laying in the gutters, people passing them by as if they didn’t matter. 

People were starving. People were dying. The crops had failed, bringing famine and an epidemic of jail fever. The worst-hit was Ireland, and Castiel thought of Meg and wondered if she still had family on that Island where he knew people were suffering so much.

“Castiel!” Castiel turned as Hortensia entered the room dressed in her finest day gown. She grinned at him as she seemed to flaunt her figure, her hair dancing around her. “Are you going to hide away here forever, my love? Or will you come to join your brothers and my father in the parlor for tea?”

Castiel sighed, wincing slightly when Hortensia called him ‘my love.’ There was no love between them in any way. Hortensia married him because now her father could extend his reach into Cornwall with the acquisition of Castiel’s lands in St. Ives. Jeremiah was more than happy to sell the land, and he and his brother had become wealthy in a very short amount of time. 

And Castiel had married Hortensia because he was dead inside and no longer cared what happened to him. Not even his beloved sailboat brought him joy. When Clevedon ordered it destroyed, Castiel hadn’t even been there to witness the event. He couldn’t be made to care. All the things that gave him joy and pride before only gave him pain. Even his pride in being Cornish and being one of the very few people left alive who could even speak the language didn’t seem to phase him anymore.

“If you’d like, I could join you in our chambers,” Hortensia suggested as she seemed to notice his hesitation to address her. “After all, I can’t become with child without your participation, and it’s high time we provide my father with an heir.”

Castiel groaned. They had been married for less than a week, and already, Hortensia was insisting on having children. Castiel could barely stand to touch her.

“Given the options, I will join your father,” Castiel told her. She frowned, clearly hoping he’d take her offer.

With that, he brushed past her and out of the room, heading for the parlor. She hurried to catch up to him as he walked at a brisk pace.

“You can’t avoid me,” she sneered as she moved along. “If you refuse to do your part in this marriage, I’ll tell my father. Stop pining over those witless servants and accept your responsibilities.”

Castiel stopped in his tracks at the mention of the servant girls. He whirled to face Hortensia, narrowing his eyes at her. “Don’t mention them in my presence,” he warned, his voice low and venomous. “You could not even hope to match them and knowing you were the cause of their demise… I will never love you, Hortensia. I only married you because I hold no value to my own life.”

Hortensia sneered dangerously, leaning in. “If you care so little for your life, dear husband, why don’t you put it to an end?” she responded. “I have your inheritance; I have no use of you anymore. Perhaps you should be careful. I know how to get rid of people who have outlived their use.”

Castiel wondered why he kept hanging onto life. He’d thought about putting a pistol to his head many times, yet something kept him from doing it. It wasn’t out of fear. Something was holding him to this life, and he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

“Ah, so glad to have found the happy couple,” Crowley’s sudden appearance at the end of the hallway was a stiff reminder of the other uncertainty in his life. Castiel swallowed as the schemer sauntered over to him. 

“Crowley,” he murmured. “I was on my way to visit with my father in law.”

“Perhaps I shall join you,” Crowley replied, his voice ominous, though he kept his always constant smirk. He had an air of mystery and intrigue. Castiel could never quite tell what his intentions were. “After all, I think it’s time we discussed our arrangement.”

“What arrangement?” Hortensia demanded, eyeing Castiel suspiciously. “What have you done?”

“Do tell us,” came Lord Clevedon’s voice as he and Castiel’s brothers turned the corner and came into view. “We’d all like to know.”

Castiel sighed. Why hide it any longer? After all, who was he protecting? Certainly not himself. “My anger and despair over Hortensia’s deplorable actions at the ball led to my lapse in judgment,” he explained. “In my haste, I gambled away much of my inherited wealth. My Cornish lands will need to be sold to Crowley to repay the debt.”

“What!” Jeremiah exclaimed. His face flushed beet red as he seemed to boil with anger. The angry faces around him did little to bother Castiel. “I can’t believe this! All our hard work! How could you!?”

“I will not be destitute!” Hortensia screeched, waving her arms in the air as if she was trying to fly away. Tears streamed down her face as she hurled insults and slurs at Castiel. 

Castiel watched as they all tried to sort out their thoughts. They frantically argued with each other over how Castiel should be dealt with. He barely paid any attention to him. He felt somewhat satisfied. As they all realized, he was responsible for them suddenly being a lot less wealthy than they were only a few minutes ago. 

“I’ll leave you to sort out the finer details,” Crowley told Castiel as he surveyed the scene with a smug grin before turning and casually walking back the way he’d come.

Castiel was still barely paying attention to the commotion unfolding in front of him when Archibald suddenly lashed out and shoved him hard, sending him careening back into the wall.

The force of the impact sent a painting crashing to the floor as Castiel barely had the chance to slump to the wall before Archibald grabbed him again.

“We should have taken care of you as soon as your wench of a mother died,” his brother declared as Jeramiah nodded in agreement. “But instead, we agreed to let you live. Now you’ve gone too far, and you are going to pay the price.”

Castiel felt himself hauled up to his feet as both brothers hauled him through the house and out the front door. He grunted as he was thrown hard into the dirt. As he turned, he caught sight of the pistol Jeramiah suddenly pulled from his pocket, and he barely had the chance to dodge out of the way before the bullet whizzed passed him, nicking his shoulder.

Blood poured down Castiel’s arm as he suddenly found himself in the fight for his life. He leaped at Jeremiah, trying to get control of the gun. Archibald grabbed him from behind, and soon all three of them were rolling around on the ground. Castiel kicked and punched as he felt many blows in his stomach and side. Pain in his shoulder and blood splattered around them as they wrestled. 

And then… the gun went off. For a moment, everything stopped. Castiel wasn’t sure who had pulled the trigger, but he fully expected to feel the pain of the shot, and to be gagging on his last breath… but he wasn’t. As he looked beneath him, Jeremiah slumped down into the dirt, blood pouring out of the hole in his chest.

Castiel sat there stunned for a few moments, and it wasn’t until Archibald reacted that he realized the gun was in his hand.

“No!” Archibald exclaimed, jumping at him. Castiel whirled and took another shot and instantly, his brother fell dead. 

His hands shook as he quickly dropped the pistol into the sand and got to his feet. He’d killed someone. He’d never meant to take anyone’s life, no matter how much he despised them. 

Hortensia’s scream pierced the air, and Castiel glanced up just as she and Clevedon came running.

“You killed them!” Hortensia exclaimed. “You bloodthirsty monster!”

“Guards!” Clevedon exclaimed, and before he knew it, Castiel was being hauled off by two British officers. He didn’t bother to put up a fight. If it was even possible, he felt even more miserable than he had before.


	9. Chapter 9

Not too far from the manor, Hannah huddled in the corner of the bedroom where she and Meg had been held captive. She felt as if sickness was clinging to her very bones. She felt weak and every muscle in her body ached. It was all she could do to keep herself upright as she waited for Meg to return.

Meg’s spell had lasted longer than expected, and Hannah was grateful for that. Living in this place, she couldn’t afford to give in to this sickness. She wanted to. Her mind was clouded and she struggled to concentrate, but through sheer will, she fought through the fog.

Hannah found her mind lingering on the one thing she felt would make her feel so much better. The laudanum. It had been too long since she’d had it and her body and her mind craved the medicine. She couldn’t deny the hold it had on her.

They had been living in this small room in the baron’s home since Hortensia had sent them away so suddenly. Sent them away so they wouldn’t be in her way anymore. So she could have Castiel all to herself. 

Even if the room they were in was larger than the servant’s quarters they were used to back at the manor, it was sparsely decorated with a small straw bed on one side of the room and a small, drafty window that rattled everytime the wind breezed in. The air was stale and smelled of mold and Hannah had seen more than a few rats scurry across the floor. The conditions were abysmal to say the least.

But their situation wasn’t the only thing that filled Hannah’s thoughts. She struggled through her cloud of delirium to think about what had been taken from her. Castiel. Where could he be now? Did he know where they were? What lies had Hortensia been feeding him and what consequence was he enduring after their affair had been revealed to everyone who could threaten it?

Hannah’s muddled thoughts were interrupted when the door suddenly swung open and Meg came in, focusing in the huddled form in the corner. Hannah sighed with relief at the sight of Meg coming in as she struggled to get to her feet. She could barely balance herself and she gripped the wall for balance. “Meg,” she murmured as the other woman closed the door behind her and stepped inside.

“What are you doing out of bed,” Meg scolded sharply as Hannah stumbled to her. Meg helped her over to the bed on the far side of the small room and with some reluctance, Hannah let her lower herself back into bed. Hannah gazed up at her with concern, eyes roaming all over her face. She spotted a few bruises and cuts.

“Why did he keep you for so long?” Hannah demanded anxiously, her voice shaking slightly as the weak, sick feeling began to take hold of her again. She felt sick not only from the illness but from worry over knowing where Meg had been and what the baron had done to her.

From the very beginning of their arrival, the baron had made his intentions known right away. He was a cruel man who drank too much and couldn’t be bothered to keep his hands to himself. And since he now owned them, he was entitled to put his hands over wherever he wished. They were his playthings. It didn’t seem to bother him that Hannah was suffering from the sickness. It actually seemed to encourage him. He enjoyed preying upon women who seemed too weak to defend themselves.

And that was why, from the very beginning, from the moment they had met the baron and the baron had tried to touch Hannah, his hands intending to unbutton her blouse as she tried to shrink away, Meg had intervened. Meg did not suffer from jail fever and the baron had seemed less appealing to her. That is until she proceeded to entice him with her seductive language, promising him pleasure and bliss if he chose her instead.

So every day that the baron had come, Meg had left the room with him and Hannah had been left alone. Sometimes all day, and at times well into the night. She’d been forced to contemplate all the terrible things that baron could be doing to Meg and all the terrible things that could be happening to Castiel back at the manor.

“The baron was in a rowdy mood,” Meg responded to Hannah’s question about how long she had been gone. She shrugged nonchalantly as she sat at the edge of the bed. “I let him have his way so that he wouldn’t come after you.”

“Meg,” Hannah felt upset. She understood what Meg was implying and it sickened her. “You shouldn’t. I can take care of myself.”

“I know,” Meg leaned in to kiss Hannah. “But I’ve been in the graces of rowdy men before. It’s nothing.”

Hannah couldn’t believe that. Meg had admitted that she’d allowed the baron to violate her just so he’d keep his hands off of Hannah. And Hannah knew full well that it had likely happened every time Meg left the room with him. And now she was dismissing it as if it were a daily chore. Hannah knew this was Meg’s strategy, to put on a brave front in order to protect her own vulnerability. . 

With a groan, Hannah sat up and leaned against the headboard. Waves of dizziness overwhelmed her and she nearly fell back over. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as her head throbbed trying to gain control of her vision. Slowly, she opened her eyes, taking a shaky breath. 

“We have to get out of here,” Hannah insisted with a hint of urgency to her actions as she tried to get up when Meg braced her shoulders, keeping her from toppling over backward in bed. “I can’t stand it anymore, Meg! Let’s escape. We can make it out of here and find a way to rescue Castiel and never come back!”

“You’re so sick,” Meg reminded her, pressing the palm of her hand to Hannah’s forehead. “My spell won’t last much longer and you are only going to get sicker. Where could we go where we’d be safe?”

“I don’t-” Hannah started to voice her doubts and fears when the door suddenly swung open. Meg whirled to face it as Hannah looked on. The creaky wooden door slammed into the wall hard, and the baron stood in the doorway. Hannah gasped, trying to pull herself up, thinking he was back for Meg.

“Stay away-” she stammered as Meg got to her feet, prepared to confront him. But the baron said nothing. He wobbled on his feet as he staggered a few inches into the room and then promptly fell hard on his face. Standing behind him, gleaming as he admired his own handiwork, was Crowley.

“Guess that hemlock really does the trick,” he commented casually as he turned his attention to the two women. “Might have to try it on a few people.”

“He’s dead?” Hannah murmured, staring at the lifeless body on the floor. The baron, a large round, overly hairy man, who had been dressed only in a pair of boxers and a silk robe. His mouth was open and he was drooling slightly on the floor.

“Quite,” Crowley confirmed. “Now if you two ladies will follow me, I’ll be escorting you to your passage out of here.”

“Passage?” Meg asked. Hannah didn’t need any further encouragement to want to get out of this situation. The words “out of here” were enough for her to let a ray of hope hop inside her. She gripped Meg as she was pulled carefully to her feet, leaning heavily on her lover for support.

“I’ve managed to secure us a little getaway vessel. On one condition, of course,” Crowley explained as the two women hurried towards him. Meg glanced at him suspiciously.

“What sort of conditions?” she asked carefully.

“You continue to make opium and you miss,” he turned to Hannah, “continue to make high-quality gun powder. We’ll be quite a profitable team, sailing to and fro bringing people vices of all sorts. What do you say?”

Hannah exchanged glances with Meg. She didn’t like making gunpowder, it had been a necessary evil. Something she had learned to make while she and her father worked as miners back in Wales. It had been helpful for a while with the income. But the appeal of sailing away from here, exploring the unknown, with Meg, and maybe, with Castiel, was something that couldn’t be denied.

“Castiel,” Hannah voiced what she knew was on Meg’s mind too. “We won’t go anywhere without Castiel.”

“Oh, I’m afraid that situation is a little more complicated,” Crowley replied as he helped the women meander through the now masterless manor, and out to the front where there was a carriage waiting. “He’s awaiting execution in the jail, I’m afraid.”

Hannah gasped. “No!” she exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut as that burst of emotion pained her heart and caused some dizziness. If Meg and Crowley hadn’t been holding her up, she likely would have collapsed to the ground. She didn’t know what could have happened to warrant Castiel’s arrest, but she refused to accept the possibility of losing him to the noose. “You have to do something, please!” she coughed hard, her body trembling as Meg helped her into the carriage.

“We have to get Hannah out of Bristol,” Meg explained to Crowley hurriedly. “And get her some medicine and treatment.”

“There’s plenty of herbs and medicines on board the vessel,” Crowley explained. “I took the liberty of raiding the local doctor’s apothecary house.”

Hannah groaned as she leaned back in the carriage. She knew she was getting sicker, she wondered if the medicine would be of any help much longer. But she was determined to see Castiel again, even if it’s just for a moment. Just for one last time.

“Go to the harbor, you’ll find my galley waiting for you. HMS. Ominous.” Crowley instructed as Hannah struggled to breathe in between coughs while Meg hurried to the driver’s position, taking the horse’s reigns. “I’ll join you in a few hours after I visit the jail. Make your choice. A life of freedom and questionable morality with me, or spend the rest of your life here in Bristol, cleaning Lord Clevedon’s soiled clothes.”

Hannah knew they had no choice. “Go, Meg,” she called as she considered those options. Meg nodded and pulled the horses into a quick trot. Hannah held hopes close to her heart that somehow, someway, they would be reunited with Castiel. Seeing Crowley’s form disappear in the fog as they sped away gave her a glimmer of hope.

They’d wait for Castiel as long as they had to.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel took a deep breath as he sat alone in his jail cell. It was wet and the thick smell of mold and death in the air was nauseating. He could hear other inmates around him, groaning and mumbling, some in fear, some in suffering, some from insanity. 

It was here, sitting in his cell that Castiel was confronted with the realities of the commoner’s plight and how the unusual weather had wreaked havoc in their lives. Rain pounded on the roof above him and the room was leaking which allowed puddles to form at his feet as he huddled in the corner of his cel,l listening to the sounds of suffering around him. Jail fever was rampant in here and the criminals were left untreated by doctors. Many were in jail due to unpaid debt. But Castiel had not seen one single doctor- or anyone- grace these halls since the soldiers had brought him here.

The man in the jail cell across from him was laying in the middle of his cell, lifeless after having collapsed from sickness hours ago. Castiel couldn’t reach out to him but he was certain that he was dead and from the stench of rotting flesh that permeated the air around him, Castiel could gather that there were other prisoners who had succumbed as well.

At least Castiel was lucky. He wouldn’t be in here as long as some of these prisoners. He was due to be hung in a day or two and then perhaps all of his sufferings would be over. Everything would be over and maybe he’d be able to join his beloveds in the afterlife. If there even was an afterlife!

“Castiel,” Castiel squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of Hortensia’s irritatingly distinguishable voice. When he turned to face the front of his jail cell, Hortensia and her father were standing there, both wearing smug expressions. They had won, they’d broken him and they knew it.

“I want you to know that we will get out of your calamity,” Hortensia informed him. “You insolent fool. You should have cooperated. You could be living in luxury with me instead of here in this filth.”

“I know far more connections than you do,” Clevedon added. “That fool Crowley will not see one penny of what you gambled away. Clevedon Manor is still mine.”

“Then why are you here?” Castiel asked stoically as he got to his feet and turned to face them in his cell. “My execution isn’t until Saturday.”

“We wanted you to know that your plans failed,” Clevedon began. But as Castiel watched, trying to ignore the headache forming in his head, listening to their gloating at his misfortunes, Clevedon suddenly gasped. His hands gripped his throat as he tried to take in a breath. 

“Father!” Hortensia exclaimed as Clevedon collapsed forwards, desperate hands grasping at his neck. He flailed around on the floor, body convulsing violently before finally, he lay still, eyes wide and gazing up to the ceiling.

Castiel blinked, unsure of what had happened. But as Hortensia knelt, shaking her father’s body over and over again, wailing in despair. To Castiel, she didn’t sound all that genuine, when a stocky figure walked over, peering down at the now deceased Lord Clevedon.

“That ought to teach you to accept drinks from someone who you tried to cheat,” Crowley commented as Hortensia glared up at him. “You can’t cheat a master cheater.”

“How dare you!” Hortensia exclaimed as Crowley shoved her aside and moved over to Castiel’s cell, pulling out a key and swiftly unlocking it. “I’ll see to it you are both hung! Guards!”

“Oh I’m afraid they’re all taking naps at the moment,” Crowley responded nonchalantly as Castiel opened the door and stepped out. He was free. 

“What did you do?” Castiel asked, glancing at Crowley as they both ignored Hortensia, who continued to hurl threats at them. 

“A good hustler always keeps his secrets,” Crowley replied. “Now if you’ll come with me, your vessel awaits.”

“Wait,” Castiel paused as he glanced at the other jail cells. He reached for the keys and Crowley rolled his eyes, but didn’t resist. Quickly, as Hortensia still huddled in the middle of the corridor, wailing and protesting inaudibly, Castiel and Crowley unlocked each and every jail cell. Those who could move quickly bolted out and hurried towards freedom. Castiel knew the authorities would try to round them all up, but he hoped most of them would escape, and the confusion and chaos would provide sufficient cover for many to make their escape.

Then, Castiel walked over to Hortensia and leaned in. “You stand to be at the mercy of these people, so if you value your own safety, you should help them. If I were you, I’d do it. Find them a doctor. In the meantime, I hope I’ll never see you again.”

With that, Castiel hurried out after Crowley and the two hopped up onto the horses waiting outside the jail cell and quickly broke into a gallop. Castiel could imagine that although Crowley was able to somehow incapacitate the jail guards, the impending jailbreak would get the attention of the city constabulary before long. 

Castiel felt anxious. He didn’t know where his adventures with Crowley would lead, but he was sure they would be better than what he was leaving behind. As they approached the docks, he almost fell off of his horse when he saw what was waiting for them.

A small sailboat lay moored at the harbor. And there, standing at the bow, was Meg. Meg! Castiel could hardly believe his eyes. 

“Meg!” he exclaimed as he and Crowley got off their horses and hurried for the vessel. Castiel felt his heart beating wildly at the sight of the woman he thought had been taken from him. He couldn’t get aboard this vessel fast enough. 

Just as they both climbed aboard and Castiel made his way towards the bow of the vessel where Meg was leaning over the rail waiting for him. He also saw the other figure, sitting on a small bench beside her.

“Hannah!” Hannah looked pale and frail, but she smiled at the sight of Castiel. And it took only a second before he closed the distance between them and pulled Hannah and Meg, both into his arms, as he squeezed them tight as if they were his lifeline. 

Hannah clung to him, barely able to stand with her own strength. She coughed hard and as Castiel pulled back to stare into both of their faces, he could see how sickly she looked. 

“How?” he stammered as Crowley pulled up the anchor and their vessel began to pull out of the harbor. 

“Does it truly matter?” Meg asked, grinning. “What matters is that we are free, my love. We’re finally free.”

It didn’t really matter to him how Meg and Hannah were standing here. It occurred to him then that Hortensia could have been lying to him all this time, but that seemed irrelevant. What mattered to him was that Meg and Hannah were in his arms, safe and he was determined to never let them go. He turned to Hannah, taking in her misery.

“She’ll be okay,” Meg told him, anticipating his next question. “Crowley managed to get us some medicine and I was able to administer it. She’ll need bed rest, but she’ll be okay.”

“If you require bed rest then why are you out here in the wind?” Castiel scolded teasingly as he leaned in to kiss Hannah on the lips. 

“Because I had to see you,” Hannah responded, her voice weak, but her smile wide and genuine. 

Castiel smiled. As Crowley joined them, the four of them moved to lean over the rails as their vessel began to pull away from Bristol. Castiel realized then that he was leaving for the last time. 

“So where shall we go?” he asked as he stood there, each arm draped around the waist of his loves. 

“To the horizon,” Hannah replied as she held onto him for support. “And beyond.”

And so began the adventures of Castiel, the Cornish fisherman, Hannah the Welsh miner, Meg the Irish herbalist, and Crowley, the Scottish hustler. Their adventures and their tales were just the beginning.


End file.
